“No we don’t, we’ll go on by ourselves.” Snip looked angrily at Kabumpo and, taking Tora’s arm, began to walk off.
“Oh wait!” gasped Dorothy, more embarrassed by Kabumpo’s rudeness than by the dummy’s ridiculousness. “Kabumpo doesn’t mean that. He’s really awfully jolly when you get to know him better.”
“Don’t bother, my dear,” Tora smiled, a little sadly. Reaching up he took off both his ears and put them quietly into his pocket. “I never listen to unpleasant conversations,” explained the old man simply.
“Goodbye,” said Snip, bowing rather stiffly to Dorothy. “If you reach the Emerald City before we do, be sure to tell Ozma about her father.”
“Now please don’t go,” begged Dorothy. “Wait! Wait!” In great distress she dashed over to the Elegant Elephant and poured out the whole story of the lost King ‘of Oz and of Mombi’s wickedness.
When Tora had so unexpectedly taken off his ears Kahumpo’s little eyes had fairly rolled in his head and now, as he listened to Dorothy’s strange recital, they began to snap and sparkle with interest. If there was one thing Kabumpo enjoyed, it was being mixed up in a royal adventure. Finding the lost King of Oz would be a very creditable thing, even for an elephant so elegant as himself. It might even gain him an important position at court, thought Kabumpo craftily. And what a choice bit of news to carry home to Pumperdink-that Ozma was not the Queen at all, and that he, Kabumpo the Magnificent, had helped find the real monarch and had been present at the coronation. Already his imagination leaped ahead to this important event.
Concealing, in his pompous and provoking fashion, his real interest and excitement, Kabumpo set Dorothy upon his back and started in a dignified and stately manner toward Tora and Snip.
“I understand you are friends of the lost King of Oz,” wheezed Kabumpo grandly, as he came up beside them. “Are you going on to the Emerald City? Care to ride?” he asked graciously. This was as near an apology as Kabumpo ever got.
“Hear! Hear!” spluttered the dummy, who was walking stiffly behind the tailor.
Of course Tora could not do this, as his ears were still in his pocket, but Snip, looking inquiringly up at Dorothy saw her motion earnestly for him to yield. He decided to overlook the elephant’s rudeness and gave Kabumpo a signal to lift him up.
“Did she say you were a mutton boy?” asked Kabumpo, as he placed Snip beside the little
girl.
“No, a button boy,” corrected Dorothy hastily, “from the Kingdom of Kimbaloo, you know.”’
“Ah yes,” grunted Kabumpo condescendingly, “I remember hearing of Kimbalo-a buttony sort of place across the mountains from Pumperdink.”
Snip was about to retort with something short and sassy, when Kabumpo lifted up the tailor and as Tora seemed terribly alarmed by the suddenness of his transit through the air, Snip helped him to settle comfortably instead of talking. He just got Tora firmly seated in time to catch Humpy, whom the Elegant Elephant tossed aloft as carelessly as he would a bale of hay.
“All ready?” boomed Kabumpo importantly. “Well, then here we go.” And before anyone could answer he was off, moving swiftly and surely as a battleship through the waving billows of wheat.
“What did you find for lunch?” called Humpy curiously. Snip and Tora hadn’t breath to say anything, and Dorothy was too worried about Ozma to want to talk. But Kabumpo, instead of answering, threw up his trunk, sending forth such a volley of shrill bellows that Snip’s hair rose on end and the ears in Tora’s pocket gave a terrified bounce. Humpy chuckled, as he listened to the shrill trumpeting of the Elegant Elephant. He had thought of a joke!
“Ah, he has eaten a trumpet vine,” mused the dummy dreamily, as the noise died away. But it ceased for only a moment, for trumpeting was Kabumpo’s way of clearing a path for himself and, determined to reach the capitol before Mombi, the witch, he travelled as never before and, clinging to each other and to Kabumpo’s harness and robe, the four riders made the best they could of the worst journey they had ever taken.
CHAPTER 16
Humpy Hailed As King
KABUMPO would never have stopped until he reached the Emerald City itself, had it not been for the mountain. Rushing like an express train from a small dim wood, the Elegant Elephant came unexpectedly upon a steep wall of rock. With a snort of surprise he stopped so sharply that everyone in the party went sailing over his head. Humpy,’ who was lightest, sailed farthest and, landing first, made a splendid cushion for Snip and Dorothy to fall on. Tora, fortunately, plumped into a patch of gooseberry bushes, so that no one was really hurt.
“Didn’t I do that well?” asked the dummy, as Dorothy and Snip jumped up. “Falling’s my specialty and falling for you, Princess,” he rose and made Dorothy an exceedingly shaky bow, “falling for you, is a real pleasure.”
“Well I’m kinda glad you did fall first,” gasped the little girl, running to help Snip pull Tora out of the bushes.
“Did I understand Dorothy to say your name was Kabumpo?” inquired the dummy, addressing himself blandly to the Elegant Elephant. Kabumpo nodded without taking his eyes from the mass of jagged stone ahead.
“Well, that accounts for the bumpo. I understand perfectly now,” continued Humpy conversationally, as he picked up his crown and set it solemnly on his head. “But next time, next time, old rascal!” He wagged his finger playfully at the Elegant Elephant.
“Old rascal! Old rascal!” sputtered Kabumpo, swinging round in a fury. “How dare you talk to me like that, you good for nothing son of a sofa, you hair brained piece of a night shirt!”
“Well, I may be stuffed with hair, but you’re stuffed with hay and I don’t see much difference except,” Humpy backed rapidly out of Kabumpo’s reach, “except that the person who stuffed you didn’t finish the job. You’re full of wrinkles,” he announced judicially.
Kabumpo made a swing at the dummy with his trunk and then, thinking better of it, turned angrily away and, mumbling and wheezing under his breath, began to move majestically toward the rocky barrier. Seeing that no more fun was to be had out of him, Humpy hurried over to the tailor, who was walking unsteadily between Dorothy and Snip. He had put on his ears and was listening attentively to the little girl’s remarks about the Elegant Elephant. Dorothy was telling how faithfully Kabumpo had served his master, the Prince of Pumperdink.
“It may be so, it may be so,” muttered Tora, gazing after the great beast doubtfully, “but he seems to me a trifle abrupter, almost dangerous!”
“But he’s very fast,” said Dorothy coaxingly, “and if he had not stopped when he did we’d have been thrown upon the rocks.”
“That’s so,” put in Snip, who had rather enjoyed his wild ride upon the elephant’s back.
“Well, well, I daresay I am old fashioned,” sighed the tailor, settling his specs resignedly, “and if you and Dorothy can stand this mad mode of travel, I’ll try not to mind it either.”
“Fall on me next time,” invited the dummy generously. Humpy’s expression as he made this suggestion was so comical that Tora laughed in spite of himself.
“But how are we going to cross the mountain?” put in Snip dismally. “It’s too steep for Kabumpo to climb and I don’t see any way ‘round do you?”
Dorothy shook her head. “I don’t even remember a mountain being here,” observed the little girl with a troubled frown. They had joined the Elegant Elephant by this time and, standing in a dejected row, they surveyed the great mass of tumbled rocks-rocks so steep and jagged that even Snip shuddered at the thought of clambering over their perilous peaks.
“I hope you don’t expect me to carry you over,” sniffed Kabumpo. “Only a bird could cross this. A bird! Great Gollywockers! Look!”
But Dorothy and the others had already seen for themselves. An old woman and a goose were walking calmly through the mountain just as if it did not exist at all-an old woman and a goose! The former was dressed in the simple costume of a Gilliken farmer’s wife. In one hand s
he carried a large basket and with the other she held her stick and a long rope attached to the goose’s neck.
“It’s Mombi!” cried Dorothy, clutching Snip in terror, for in spite of the disguise, there was no mistaking that wicked old face.
“And Pajuka!” gasped Snip, scarcely daring to breathe. Tora’s ears were fluttering like leaves in a gale, and even Kabumpo trembled slightly.
“She must have got her magic powers back,” whispered Snip hoarsely, “or how could she walk through a mountain? Oh Dorothy, what shall we do now?”
As it happened, they had time to do nothing, for just then Pajuka looked up and saw the little button boy.
“Snip!” screamed the goose joyfully. Spreading both wings, he flew forward so fast that Mombi had to run to keep up’ with him. “I thought she had done for you,” panted the goose, paying no attention to Mombi’s jerks upon the rope. He began to caress Snip with both wing and bill.
Snip forgot his fright for a moment, in his delight at seeing his old friend again and, dropping on his knees, hugged Pajuka for dear life. Dorothy involuntarily drew back from the witch, who was mumbling a long rigamarole about being on her way to the Emerald City with a fine goose for Ozma of Oz. Humpy, stepping from behind the Elegant Elephant, folded his arms and gazed down benevolently upon the little scene. ‘Reminds me of the happy endings in the picture game, observed the dummy indulgently to the tired tailor. “I’m for that bird, and I don’t care who knows it,” he said.
“Hush!” warned the tailor, looking nervously at Mombi. But at the first sound of Humpy’s voice, Pajuka had given a great bounce and, extricating himself from Snip’s embrace, came hurtling through the air.
“Master!” shrieked the goose and flapped his wings so violently that the flimsy dummy fell backward over Kabumpo’s trunk. With a surly flounce the Elegant Elephant shook him off.
“Monster!” hissed Pajuka, with a wild peck at the elephant’s trunk. “How dare you insult his Majesty?” Bowing and weeping alternately he cried shrilly, “The King! At last I have found the King!”
By this time the tailor had got Humpy to his feet, and it is hard to say who was the most astonished of that astonished little group. Mombi dropped her basket with a crash and came over to stare at the green clad figure. Kabumpo, thinking of his late speeches, began to back uncomfortably away.
“But it can’t be the King,” began Dorothy, catching hold of Snip. “I found Humpy my own self in California and however could he have gotten there?”
“Girl,” said the goose sternly, “don’t you suppose I know my own Master?”
“And I’ve seen him before too,” murmured the old tailor, half closing his eyes. “Let me think! Let me think!”
“Did you ever see the King yourself?” asked Snip, turning excitedly to Dorothy. The little girl had to acknowledge that she had not, for Mombi had hidden the old monarch away before Dorothy had come to Oz.
“You don’t mind my being King, do you Dorothy?” The dummy turned to her coaxingly. “I’d love to be the star in just one picture. Let me be King and you shall be Queen.”
“Star! Picture! Queen!” choked Pajuka, gazing from one to the other in bewilderment. “What does this mean? Woman, woman what have you done to the King?”
He turned accusingly to Mombi, but Mombi, brushing him roughly aside, had run up to Humpy and was examining him carefully from all sides. Catching sight of a white tape protruding from the collar of his robe, the old witch jerked him sideways and after one triumphant look at the number on the tape, began to jump up and down like a child on a pogo stick.
“The King!” shrilled Mombi, throwing up her stick. “It is the King of Oz himself! And I am the only one who can restore him to himself and to the throne.” She looked sharply at Dorothy, whom she had already recognized, as if daring her to contradict this statement.
“But I don’t see how a dummy could be a king,” objected Dorothy, still trying to puzzle out the
mystery.
“That’s because you are only a little girl,” explained Pajuka gently. “I suppose you don’t see how a goose could be a prime minister either, or how that wicked old woman would dare to turn her King to a stuffed man and his trusted councillor to a goose, or throw an innocent little boy down a well,” hissed Pajuka, with an angry glare at Mombi.
“A meddlesome little vagabond,” mumbled Mombi, holding her ground stubbornly. She was not going to be frightened out of her reward by anyone now, and stared defiantly at the little company.
“But how did you get out of the well and who are all these people?” puffed Pajuka, looking curiously from Tora to Kabumpo and then letting his eyes rest fondly on the King.
Mombi scarcely listened as Snip told of his fall into Blankenburg, his escape with the tailor and their meeting with Dorothy, Kabumpo and the dummy. She was hurriedly turning over a plan to get Humpy away from his friends. While Pajuka, in his turn, told how he had tried to fly down the well, how he had been caught and tied up by the old witch and forced to accompany her until now, Mombi dropped the rope that was tied to his neck and made a sly move toward the King.
“Your Majesty,” whispered Mombi craftily, “may I have a few words with you?”
“Certainly. Certainly!” puffed the dummy King, stepping along pompously at her side. Tora, Snip and Dorothy were so interested in Pajuka’s story that they did not notice Mombi’s move, but Kabumpo, who had been keeping an astonished eye and ear upon the whole proceeding, stepped noiselessly after the two. Here, reasoned Kabumpo anxiously, was an opportunity to make up for his rude speeches and restore himself to favor with this impossible person who was turning out to be the
King.
No sooner had Mombi put a few trees between herself and the others than she grasped Humpy by his hand and began running like the wind.
“We’ll hide,” grunted the old witch, paying no attention to the dummy’s expostulations, “and when they’ve stopped looking for us we’ll go on to the Emerald City and I will restore your Majesty to the throne. But first,” panted Mombi, stopping a moment to catch her breath, you must promise to give me back my magic powers and half of the Kingdom of Oz. Do you promise? You’d better,” she added threateningly, giving Humpy a vicious shake.
“But I’m going to the Emerald City with Dorothy,” objected the King in dismay. “Let me go, you old ragbag.”
“Yes, how dare you shake his Majesty!” thundered an imperious voice and, whirling ‘round in a fright, Mombi saw the Elegant Elephant looming up between two trees. He had followed them without a sound and now, snatching Humpy from the clutches of the old witch, placed him carefully upon his back.
With a cry of rage, Mombi tried to get away, but Kabumpo was too quick for her. Seizing the witch in his trunk and shaking her to and fro like a rattle, he ran trumpeting back to the others. They had just discovered Humpy’s absence and Pajuka with a hoarse shriek came flying toward the Elegant Elephant.
“She was trying to steal the King!” panted Kabumpo indignantly. “Shall I throw her over the mountain or step on her?”
“Step on her,” commanded the dummy, extending two fingers of his right hand as he had seen kings in the movies do time and time again. Mombi gave a terrible screech and Dorothy and Snip looked uneasily at one another.
“The King has spoken,” honked Pajuka, settling down gravely beside the dummy, “therefore let the sentence be carried out.”
Dorothy closed her eyes and clung to Snip, but just then, the calm voice of the tailor intervened.
“Your Highness,” began Tora gravely, “as this woman is the only one in Oz who can restore you to your proper self, do you think this step a wise one?”’
The tailor’s ears fluttered anxiously as he waited for the King’s decision. For an instant Humpy looked doubtfully at Mombi, then with a sigh lowered his fingers. “Perhaps it would be a rash step,” he admitted regretfully.
“Well, some steps must be taken,” honked Pajuka angrily. “Are we to put up with thi
s treachery forever?”
“No, just until she restores the King,” answered Tora mildly.
“Then I shall step on her,” promised Kabumpo, giving Mombi another shake.
“That’s right,” said Dorothy, glad to have the dreadful business delayed. “Mombi must first restore the King.”
“I’ll not do it without a reward,” screamed the witch defiantly. “Do I get a reward or not?”
The others were silent but Humpy, again extending his fingers, announced grandly, “You shall be rewarded as you deserve!” He winked at Pajuka as he said this, but Mombi apparently was satisfied and stopped squirming.
“Well, I can’t do it here,” she muttered sulkily. “The transformation was made near the Emerald City and the enchantment cannot he broken until we reach the green country.”
“Then let’s go on to the Emerald City,” proposed Dorothy eagerly. Once there, reflected the little girl, Ozma herself could settle the whole troublesome business. Somehow Dorothy could not imagine Oz without the little fairy as its Queen, and while she was glad indeed to have found the lost King, she could not get used to the idea of Humpy on the throne and administering affairs in Oz.
Humpy, himself, was enjoying it all tremendously. He remembered nothing of his past, it is true, but the present was sufficiently interesting and exciting to make up for everything.
“On to the Emerald City!” he commanded, pompously waving his arms.
“I hear and I obey, your Majesty,” wheezed Kabumpo, and hardly giving the two children and the old tailor time to climb aboard, he was off, still holding Mombi fast in his trunk.
L. Frank Baum - Oz 19 Page 11